


ctrl alt delete

by orphan_account



Category: SMP live
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-19 21:09:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20216311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Schlatt, without a doubt, has the best taste in music you’ve ever heard.





	ctrl alt delete

**Author's Note:**

> we both like alt rock. soulmates obviously... enjoy. ALSO LISTEN TO SHAME SHAME BY DR DOG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THATS THAT ON THAT BRUV. also i guess this is a first kiss fic whatever
> 
> update as of may 31 2020: i no longer support schlatt but i will still leave this fic up. please read it with the knowledge that i was not aware of several facts. one, schlatt defended pewdiepie after pewdiepie said the n word and posted a video saying death to all jews. two, schlatt has said the n word and has now refused to apologize. three, schlatt has stayed silent while black people’s lives are taken and all of his friends have spoken up about the issue. i wrote this through rose tinted glasses on his ignorance, so please be aware of the fact while reading.

"You know something, Schlatt?" You say one day. 

"Yeah, what?" He responds, looking up from his laptop. He makes eye contact with you from over the edge of the screen. 

"We never really... listen to music together." You say and pause. "Like, obviously, okay, Minecraft Volume Alpha—“

“The best,” he chimes in.

“I mean, you’re right! And the SimCity soundtrack, and I know you love all the Mario Kart soundtracks, but that isn’t really _music_ music. That’s, like, stuff you listen to in the background,” you say. "I'm always the one showing you music."

Schlatt lets out a hum of agreement. "Yeah, I guess you’re right," he says before continuing. "Although I don’t agree with you calling it not _music_ music. I love that shit, man. The only big difference is that it doesn’t have words. But you know what? You’re right. You’re right.” 

"Duh," you say and smile lopsidedly at him.

Schlatt shuts his laptop, slides it off his lap, and pulls his phone out of his pocket. He holds his phone with a newfound intensity and his eyes are narrowed as he swipes and clicks. 

“I have a Spotify playlist with my _music_ music, you know that, right?” He says, half-mindedly as he taps.

”It’s different!” 

“Yeah, okay, whatever you say.” 

”No, no, it is! There’s like, some kind of disconnect when I listen to your Spotify playlists,” you say. "Those could be made by anyone."

You wish you could explain to him the way he gently sways or taps his feet as he listens. You wish you could show him the way he runs circles with his thumb into the tip of his pointer finger when he really likes a song. You wish you could let him listen to his soft humming as he listens to the Pixies, and you wish you could explain the way it makes your stomach drop. You bite your tongue because you know that that kind of sappy shit goes better unsaid with Schlatt, and he'd probably put away his phone and start laughing.

“Okay, so, can you turn off the lights?” He says, still tapping away at his phone. 

“Woah, getting kinda creepy,” you chuckle.

He laughs at your reaction but still doesn’t look up from his phone. His eyes flick across the screen, the blue screen softly illuminating the curves of his face. He looks deep in thought, and something in your stomach flips knowing he cares enough to find the perfect song for you.

You figure it is only right to listen to his instructions, and you get up from your spot on the couch to flick the lights off. The room immediately darkens, and the only light falls from the window. The streetlights leave orange streaks across the wood floor of his apartment and soften the look of his face. 

“Don’t tell anyone,” he gets up and pauses for a second. Then, he throws his phone onto the couch as the music fades in. “But, uh, this is how all music is meant to be listened to.” 

“With a hot girl in front of you?” You joke.

“No. Well, yeah, actually. But I mean, the, the _ambiance_. Oh, yeah, the ambiance.” 

_I was a loner, unloved _

The music starts slowly. 

_I really didn’t need any help at all. _

“Shame, shame,” he whispers in time with the song, and, automatically, you start trying to get closer to him.

Schlatt starts swaying back and forth to the music. Unconsciously, you mimic his swinging motion. Gently, you move your hips and shoulders side to side just like he does. His shirt drifts up and back down his stomach; his hair bounces; he smiles more and more with every note.

_I used to write it all down, _

_hoping someone would read it, years from now. _

You look up at his face, and his eyes are shut closed, his eyelashes softly resting on his cheeks. The orange light from outside dances across his face, and he looks at peace. You can’t take your eyes off of him. 

“Shame, shame,” he whispers out, his mouth barely parting to let the words out. You can barely hear him, especially over the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

_You started hanging around,_

On that lyric, his eyes open, right to your face. You blush even more under his gaze, especially since he caught you staring. 

_I really didn’t think I could live it down. _

"Come here," he whispers gently to you, and as you come closer, he grabs your hands. 

His touch leaves a seed of overwhelming warmth in your chest. His hands are so hot, so lively, against yours. His face, upturned to the ceiling with his eyes closed, looks like the sun, beaming with life, you wish you could just bask in it. The streetlights make him look so delicate, almost like a doll, so different than his normal self but yet the Schlatt you know so well nonetheless. 

_Well, you can mutter on sweet nothings like you're on the other side of town._

Very slowly, as if not to frighten a small animal, you pull your hands from his to get yourself closer to him. You end up just inches apart from him, and you can feel the heat radiating off of him. 

"Hey, say it with me," he whispers down at you. For a moment, you stared at him blank-faced, profoundly braindead from the proximity. But, you snap out of it and realize what he's asking right on time. 

"Shame, shame," you both say at the same time. Your words blend together, a mix of the song and Schlatt's voice and your voice. It all just boils together and you lose yourself in the sound. You let yourself twist to the music more, gently brushing against Schlatt's chest with your movement. 

His eyes flutter back open, and you look deep into them. His pupils dilate in the darkness, and it feels like the music is not only filling the room, but your lungs and your stomach. He leans down just a little bit, his back curved ever so slightly, and places his thumb underneath your chin. His index finger rests softly on your lip, and you almost shut your eyes in a sense of loving peace.

"Schlatt," you whisper, blinking slowly, trying to snapshot the image of his face, so caring and softened. 

_And, no, I don't regret a thing._

His lips part, and then close again. Suddenly, he lets go of your chin and closes the small bit of distance between you two. 

The kiss makes you feel incredibly drunk. You're almost swept off your feet, your face starts burning more than ever before, and you feel yourself weaken under the feeling of him. It's not perfect. His lips are chapped, his nose presses hard against your face, and he holds you clumsily. But, you lean into it. It feels perfect, as if you have been waiting for this your whole life, waiting to be kissed to a song you had never heard before by a guy you'd never kissed before. 

He ungracefully puts one hand on your cheek and the other braced against the back of your neck. You feel every line in his palm and the callouses on his ring finger press against you. There's something romantic about simplicity and flaws. It just feels right. You smile into the kiss and bring your arms around him in response. 

_Shame, shame. _

The mellow-tonedguitar keeps going, unaware of the kiss, unaware of the lightheadedness you are feeling, until the song eventually ends and fades out. You're almost sad to see it go. Maybe it had been the song that had brought this on, the kiss confined to the soft sounds of Dr. Dog and illuminated only by streetlights. With "Shame, Shame" over, the opening notes to "Where Is My Mind?" start-up, and Schlatt pulls back, just an inch, and he takes in a sharp breath. 

"What?" You say, trying to mask the disappointment in your voice. 

"I just wanted to know what you thought of it—the song, the song, I mean," he smiles, so bright, blinding almost.

_With your feet on the air and your head on the ground,_

_Try this trick and spin it, yeah._

You blink at him. 

"It's pretty damn good," you respond, "but I think you're right."

"What about?"

"The ambiance. That's what makes it."

He lets out one quick, nervous laugh, and something in you clicks. It is your turn to close the distance now. 

_Except the little fish bumped into me;_

_I swear he was trying to talk to me, to me, to me._

Greedily, you press your lips against his, hands pulling against the back of his shirt. You can feel him smile into the kiss, and your stomach stirs.

But, to your disappointment, he pulls back again. 

"Jesus H. Christ, relax, relax. You're acting like some sex-crazed broad," he smirks at you as he talks. 

"Wipe that smug look off your face. You're the one who kissed me," you say, suddenly becoming aware of the heat growing in your cheeks as he stares down at you and laughs. 

"You don’t have any proof of that. My word against yours.” 

You pull more at his shirt as if to tell him to shut up in silent response. The music is still playing, and the Pixies are your favorite.

He seems to get the message and brings you somehow closer to him. Instead of kissing, though, he continues to sway back and forth. Your head is pressed against his chest, and his chin rests in your hair. You can hear his heart thump in his chest, like a drum, fast but steady. It mixes in with the song, and you fade into Schlatt under his hot touch. 

_Where is my mind?_

_Where is my mind? _

_Where is my mind?_

"I love you," he whispers, barely audible from over the song. 

"I love you too." 

**Author's Note:**

> ido not know what schlatt looks like. i do NOT CARE!!!!!!!!! i knwo he has pretty wrists . but he could look like father fucking time but u know what??????? SCHLATT please. listen to shame shame in a dark room w me and sway back and forth as you hold me against your chest and i hear your heart beat. is that too much to ask for


End file.
